She could still feel it. The memory was as clear as if it had been yesterday.
“The ship was a training vessel. Nothing fancy. But when I sat in that pilot’s chair and the cockpit sealed and it was just me…” She breathed out, already back there in that moment. “Fred was in my ear, running through the checklist. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely grip the controls. And then I pushed the throttle forward, and the ship moved. It responded to me. Not to my father, not to my brother, not to anyone else. Just me.”
You were magnificent, Fred murmured, just between them. I remember.
“That was the first time,” she said out loud, “that I felt competent at anything. And it was something that was actually mine. Not the family firm’s. Not my brother’s. Mine. Just me and Fred and the whole of space.”
Raaze watched her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
“Your brother,” he said. “The one who sabotaged your ship.”
Her stomach tightened. “What about him?”
“Tell me.”
She shouldn’t. This wasn’t the kind of thing she talked about. Except he was looking at her like he already knew the answer.
“Kian,” she said, and the name tasted sour. “He’s the golden boy and heir apparent. My father’s been grooming him to take over the firm since he was twelve. Doesn’t matter that he couldn’t organize his way out of a paper bag or fly his way out of one either. He’s the son, so he gets the crown.”
“And you?”
She shrugged. “I’m the daughter. I’m supposed to be decorative. Maybe marry well, bring in some useful connections.” Her laugh was bitter. “The Parac’Norr run was supposed to be my chance to prove I could handle the dangerous work. The runs Kian wouldn’t touch because they might mess up his hair.”
His expression changed. The lazy interest sharpened into something harder and darker.
“He cut your hydraulic line,” Raaze said bluntly.
“Yeah, and removed a power relay. Fred found the evidence. It wasn’t wear and tear. It was surgical.”
“So you’d fail.”
“So I’d fail. Or die. I don’t think he much cared which.”
His jaw tightened, and a muscle in his cheek jumped.
“I know men like your brother,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ve played against them. They can’t beat you clean, so they cheat. They foul when the refs aren’t looking. They spread rumors in the press. They do whatever it takes to drag you down to their level because they know, they know, they can’t reach yours.”
His brows pulled together, his jaw going hard. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it.
“How long until we reach the station?”
She let him change the subject.
“Five hours,” she said. “Give or take.”
“Right.”
The cockpit was small. She’d always known that… it was a freighter, not a luxury yacht, and the pilot’s station was designed for function, not comfort. But she hadn’t noticed how small until now. Until she realized they’d been leaning toward each other without meaning to.
He was right there.
She could feel the heat coming off his skin. He smelled clean. Warm. Male. Nothing like the recycled air and engine grease she was used to, and she was already leaning toward him before her brain caught up.
He reached up.
Slow. Deliberate. His fingers brushed her temple as he pushed a strand of red hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. The touch was gentle, almost reverent.
She didn’t move.
